Crossroads of the Heart
by MCR Lurver
Summary: When Andrea and her sister Becky fall into the Patriot world, their only thought was survival. But when this fails, what will Andrea find out about herself? She never wanted anything more than to get out, but once she's in, all she wants to do is stay.
1. Prologue

Author's Notes: Well, this is a different kind of a story for me to write

**Author's Notes: Well, this is a different kind of a story for me to write. I've been planning it for a few months now, but I haven't really had time to write much. I'll just warn you know that the updates will be few and slow. Chapter 1 is the prologue. Here's a little background for you: Andrea is 21 years old. She runs a new fashion company, and pretty much doesn't have a life except for her work. Here you go:**

Chapter 1:

"Hey, Andrea!" I groaned and opened my eyes slowly, lifting my head up from my desk to see Becky standing in the doorway.

"Yeah?" I said with a yawn.

"Rough night?" Becky asked with a small laugh.

"Sure," I said. "I was up all night trying to get that shipment to Paris on time."

"You need a life, Andrea," she said, grinning at me.

"Yeah, well, if I had a life, than this company wouldn't survive."

"Just forget about the company for once! Get out there and meet some people. You know, you haven't had a boyfriend since Rob. And that was, what… two years ago now?"

I shook my head sadly. "Rob was a perfect example of why I shouldn't be seeing anyone." I paused. "What are we discussing this, anyway?"

She shrugged. "Oh, what I came in to tell you is the new purple silk is here."

I smiled. "Roger will be happy. If we start work tomorrow, we'll have those shirts finished by the beginning of next week."

"Wow, I'm surprised that you don't want to start production right now," Becky said.

"Nope," I said with a small grin. "I am going home at four o'clock sharp, going to pick up something to eat at that awful Chinese place a couple blocks down from my apartment, and then heading home and watching a movie with Kat."

Becky snorted. "Wow, eating crapy Chinese food and watching a movie with your cat sounds like loads of fun. What movie are you gonna watch?"

"I don't know," I said. "I was thinking about maybe watching _The Patriot_; I haven't seen that in a while."

"Ah, so watching a movie where basically everyone dies a horrible, bloody death is entertaining?"

I laughed. "Sure."

"Oh, and the second thing I came in for," Becky added quickly, "is can you give me a lift home? Fiona has me taking that huge file portfolio of the models home tonight, and I don't want to walk."

"Oh, suck it up," I said, giving her an exasperated look.

"I'll buy dinner."

"Done deal!" I laughed.

She smiled. "See you later, then," she said as she walked out of my office. I got up, closed the door, and sat back down at my desk to continue my nap.

111

"It's four o'clock!" came a sing-song voice from the hallway, and Becky appeared moments later. I gave her a smile and a quick thumbs-up, before turning my attention back to Annette, whom I was on the phone with.

"Hey, Annette, listen, I gotta go. Thanks again for that new shipment of belts. Alright. Chow." I hung the phone up, punched a few buttons on my computer, and shut it down for the night.

"I think this is a record for the earliest you've ever left the office," Becky said with a small smile.

I gave her a small punch on the shoulder. "Remember who's driving you home," I said, my tone one of fake warning.

"Remember who's buying you dinner."

I sighed, throwing an arm around her shoulder. "Fair enough, little sis," I said.

Really, if someone was looking at us for the first time, they'd never know we were sisters. Becky looked nothing like me at all, what with her pale blonde hair and light blue eyes, compared to me with my brilliantly red hair and dark green eyes. We had the same pale complexion, however, and that was about all that was similar. I was probably a good four inches taller than her, but you would never know, seeing as she was always wearing heals around the office.

Becky waved and called a few goodbyes to some of her clients in the parking lot as I unlocked my light yellow Mini-Cooper. I threw my bag into the back seat, while Becky clambered into the seat next to me, a large stack of files resting on her lap. "You set?" I asked as she closed the door.

"Aye, aye, captain!" she said mockingly, giving me a huge grin. I shook my head, and pulled the car out of its parking space, and out onto the road.

111

"Hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, hot!" Becky said as she opened the car door twenty minutes later, balancing a stack of Chinese food containers in one arm. She dumped them on the dashboard and climbed back in, closing the door behind her.

"How much did you get?" I asked, eyeing the pile that she had just transferred to her lap.

"Not that much," she said defensively. "Not everyone can live off of a container of steamed dumplings like you can. We're not all robots here."

I snorted. "Neither am I."

Becky opened her mouth to retort, but was interrupted by my cell phone going off. "Oh, damn. Can you get that?" I asked. "It's in my bag back there."

She unbuckled and reached into the backseat. "It's Roger," she said.

"Answer it," I said, trying to keep my eyes on the road. This was becoming increasingly difficult, what with the tempting smell of dinner wafting throughout the car.

"Andrea's phone," Becky said, flipping open my phone. "Yes, this is Becky. She's right here." I could hear the noise of Roger squawking at Becky, but I was not able to form distinct words from the babble. "No, you can't talk to her; she's driving."

_40 mph…_

"What! Are you crazy?" I heard Becky say angrily. "That's totally unreasonable, Roger."

_Mmmm… Steamed dumplings…_

"Hang on a second," Becky said, covering the phone with her hand, and then removing it again before saying, "No, I'm not going to hang-up on you!" She covered the phone once more with her hand.

"What's he want?" I asked.

_55 mph…_

"He says he wants that new line of skirts in Milan for Friday."

"What?" I nearly screamed. "That's impossible."

"And he wants the runway models along with that," Becky added.

"There's no way in hell we can do that," I said, shaking my head. "It's not humanly possible."

_65 mph…_

"Well, what do I tell him?"

"Tell Roger he's got his head up his-"

"No! He'd fire me!" Becky shook her head, and started talking to Roger again. All I could think about was getting home at this point. I wanted to sit on my couch and fall asleep watching _The Patriot_, the cat on my lap.

I could still hear Roger chewing Becky's ear off. _Damn, Jason Isaacs plays an insanely good bad guy… _I mused idly.

"It's not possible!" Becky was yelling at Roger. "We don't have the time to do that, nor the models for that matter. We lost both Kristen and Claire this week alone!" There was a pause. "I don't give a fuck if D2 wants to feature us or not."

_Sweet and Sour Pork…_

"You know what?" Becky said angrily, "Andrea was right. You do have your fucking head lodged up your fucking ass, Roger." There was more babble from Roger.

_75 mph…_

"Becky, give me the phone," I barked, blowing out a breath in frustration. "Just give me the damn phone and let me talk to him." As I reached for the phone from Becky's outstretched hand, I dropped it. "Shit," I mumbled, reaching down to pick it back up again.

_80 mph…_

Then…

_CRASH! _


	2. Alone

**Author's Notes: Yeah, it's been forever since I've written for this story, I know. This chapter took me over a year to write. Please, if you are going to throw things, I prefer snowballs, hamsters, and cabbage, not the rocks and elephants that I deserve. Anyway, this is just a sorta filler chapter that needed to be written. I'm already working on the next chapter, so expect that one up sometime before the end of the month.**

**Chapter 2:**

I opened my eyes slowly. My whole body felt like lead. I turned my head to see Becky laying a little ways from me, her eyes closed.

Wherever we were, this was _not_ the highway.

As my eyes adjusted to the light, I saw that we were in what seemed to be a forest. I started to panic. "Becky! Becky, wake up!" I said, crawling over to her, and shaking her violently. "Damnit, wake up!"

A barely audible and prolonged, "Whattttt?" came out of her mouth.

I flopped back onto the grass. "You're alive," I said quietly.

"Barely," she groaned, pushing herself up on her hands and knees. "Where are we?"

"I don't know," I said, panic clearly audible in my voice. "Are we dead?"

"We can't be," Becky said, "I hurt too much. And you would _not_ be in Heaven with me."

"Maybe we're not in Heaven," I mused. "Maybe we're in Purgatory…"

But before either of us could add to this thought, we heard the loud, thundering noise of horses. Becky just stared at me.

"Run!" I said, springing off of the ground and into the nearest clump of bushes. I didn't know where I was, so I was not taking any chances of running into something that could potentially kill me.

After a few more seconds, a column of chestnut colored horses came into view, each with a man in a bright red jacket and a beak skin hat as the rider. They looked strangely familiar, but my brain was in panic-mode, so I pushed the thought from my mind.

I pressed myself low to the ground, moving slowly so as to not be seen.

I felt a knot form and tighten in my stomach as I saw the lead rider put up his hand to signal a stop. I gulped, praying that he had not seen me.

The lead rider signaled again, and two of his men dismounted their horses, and walked towards a patch of pushes opposite from me. In one swift movement, the men jumped into the bushes. There was a squeal of pain, and the men straightened up a second later, holding another figure between them.

I gasped, perhaps a bit too loudly, as I realized that the figure was Becky, because the lead rider turned his head sharply in my direction, his ice-blue eyes sweeping the forest floor for any movement. I dared not move even an inch, even though the men were now dragging Becky from the bushes.

"Let go of me!" she huffed, struggling in vain to free herself from the men's clutches.

"And what have we here?" the lead rider asked in a British accent. "A spy, perhaps?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Becky demanded. "I'm not a spy!"

"That's what they all say," the man said, smirking at her, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Tie her up," he ordered.

A third rider dismounted, rummaged around in his saddle bag, and upon finding some rope, walked over to a struggling Becky and bound her feet and wrists. The three men then lifted her and slung her over one of the horses.

"Let me go!" Becky was screaming. I watched as her eyes, wide with terror, swept over to my clump of bushes. I wanted more than anything to run out there and rescue her, but I knew that that stunt would probably cost both of us our lives.

So I remained there, lying in a patch of bushes, and watching as these men rode off with my sister in-toe. Now I was all alone, and I still had no idea where the fuck I was.

**Author's Notes: I have decided that because I made you guys wait so long for an update, you get comments!!! Huzzah!! **

**Johanna Black – Oh dear… I have updated! (Thanks you for not throwing assorted objects at me)**

**Obnoxious Vader – Well, you already knew that I finished this chapter today 'cuz you gave me a high-five for it. (Thanks you for not throwing assorted objects at me)**

**TavyBeckettFan – Thank you for not chewing me out, even though I know I deserved it! (Thanks you for not throwing assorted objects at me)**

**ABabbling Brook – Yay! Thank you for being so nice! I'm sorry 'bout the long wait. (Thanks you for not throwing assorted objects at me)**

**Luthien Saralonde – I absolutely LOVE reviews! Thank you, thank you! (Thanks you for not throwing assorted objects at me)**


	3. The Orchard: Part I

**Author's Notes: There, I told you I'd have the next chapter up by the end of the month. And I think I get extra points because it's the middle of the month, no the end. Anyway, enjoy!**

**Chapter 3:**

I remained in the bushes for another ten minutes or so, crying silently, but not moving for fear of being captured like Becky.

Finally, the more logical part of my brain told me that it was not safe to stay there much longer. So I pushed myself up off of the ground, dusted my pants off, and looked around, trying to determine which way I should start walking. I decided that heading the opposite way of the men was the safest thing for me to do; I might find someone who'd be able to help me.

***

I was not sure how long I'd been walking – an hour or so, by my best guess. The forest had finally lightened up, and I soon found myself in what appeared to be an orchard.

Suddenly there came the sound of breaking branches behind me, followed by a loud, _thud_. I let out a small shriek, and turned to see what had fallen.

"Well, shit," came a voice from inside a clump of bushes at the base of one of the trees.

I wasn't sure if I should run or not, but before I could make a decision, a figure had clambered out of the bushes, and was dusting himself off. There stood a boy, probably eighteen or nineteen by the looks of him, with shaggy blonde hair and a good amount of scruff on his chin.

"Who goes there?" he demanded in a thick southern accent, looking at me for the first time. I saw his eyes widen as he took my features in. "What the…?"

"Um, excuse me," I said hesitantly, but he cut me off.

"You're a girl," he said bluntly.

"Yes, thank you, I know that," I said, my brows furrowing at this strange boy. "But I was wondering if you could tell me –"

"What the hell are you dressed in?" he asked. "'An excuse my French," he added as an afterthought.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"I ain't never seen no woman wearin' breeches 'fore," he said, nodding his head at me.

I was very tempted to ask what rock he had been living under, but I reframed. "Excuse me," I repeated, "but I was wondering if you could tell me where I am?"

The boy gave me an odd look. "South Carolina," he said.

"S-South C-C-Carolina?" I stammered. That was a far ways off from Washington D.C, where we had been driving.

"That's right," he said, still eyeing me.

"And… and could you possibly tell me what year this is?" I said after a few seconds.

"1778," he said.

I stared at him. "Oh, good God," I whispered, and then I blacked out.

***

"Hulloh? Hey, Miss, you in there? Hulloh?" Somebody was slapping my face very hard.

I opened my eyes to see the blonde boy kneeling over me. I swatted his hand away with my own, then pushed myself up on my elbows.

"'Ya passed out," the boy said.

I shook my head in an attempt to clear my foggy vision. "Is it r-really 1778?" I asked hesitantly.

"Sure is," he said proudly. "'An them Lobster Backs ain't won yet." He had a triumphant grin on his face.

"What?" I said, generally confused now.

"The war!" he said excitedly. Then the smile dropped from his face, and he gave me a quizzical look. "Where the hell 'av you been?"

"You don't want to know," I muttered, still in a good amount of shock.

"What's your name, anyways?" the boy asked.

"Andrea," I said.

"You got a last name with that?" he said with a grin.

"Watson," I answered, changing my position so that I was sitting cross-legged on the ground. He sat too.

"Name's Jack," he said, extending his hand to me. "Jack Goldsmith."

"Pleasure," I said, shaking his hand.

"How'd you end up in my orchard?" Jack said.

"_Your_ orchard?" I said.

"Yes ma'am," he said, a smug smile spreading across his face. "This here's my family's orchard. Our plantation's 'bout a mile up that way." He gestured in the opposite direction that I had come from.

"Well," I said, going back to his original question, "I don't know, really. You see, I just sorta woke up in the forest – I have no idea how I even got in there. Anyway, my sister was with me."

"Where's she now?" Jack cut in, looking around as if he expected to see someone jump out at him.

"I don't know," I said. "We heard a noise, so we hid. The a column of horses came riding through the forest. The men were in red jackets and bearskin hats."

"Goddamn Dragoons," Jack growled, his face growing dark.

"I'm sorry?"

"The Green Dragoons," Jack said. "They're with Cornwallis. The Butcher's in charge of 'em."

"The _Butcher_?" I said.

"Lord, where have you been?" Jack howled. "Colonel William Tavington," Jack continued. "We calls him the Butcher because he ain't got no decency in 'im. He kills civilians all the time."

I stared at him. "He has Becky."

"Becky?"

"My sister," I said hurriedly. "Do you know where they are?"

"Got you sister?" Jack said, scratching his chin. "_Had_ your sister, at any rate."

"I'm sorry?"

"She's probably been through interrogation by now," Jack said. "'An I don' know too many people who've ever come back from that."

Whatever noise I was about to make died in my throat. Then the world went black once again.

***

**Author's Notes: Gasps! No reviews! I'm crushed! Well, not really, but please read and review! I love feedback! **


	4. The Orchard: Part II

Author's Notes: Oh, my God, two updates in one day!!!!! It's a miracle!! Well, actually, no, it's not, it's just extreme boredom.

**Chapter 4:**

"Andrea? Hulloh? Wake up!"

I opened my eyes a bit slower this time, my whole body stiff with shock and fear. Finally, I sat up again.

"You got some sorta disease that makes you do that, 'er sumthin'?" Jack asked with the hint of a smile on his lips.

"Are you telling me that sister is dead?" I demanded, fighting back tears.

"Erm, well…" Jack said, "she _might_ be dead, but we can't know 'fer sure."

I let out a small growl, and buried my face in my hands.

"Uh, do you want an apple?" Jack asked awkwardly.

"What?" I said, picking my head up to look at him.

"Well," he said, "whenever I'm not feelin' too good, I eat an apple. It cheers me up, at any rate," he added with a shrug.

"No, thank you," I said wearily, casting a glance around the orchard. "What time is it?" I asked.

"It's gettin' on to supper time," Jack said lightly. "'Bout six, I'd say." I remained silent. "You wanna come in for supper?" he asked.

"Come in for supper?" I repeated.

"Sure," he said with a grin.

"And how would your family take to me, exactly?" I asked skeptically. "Look what I'm wearing!"

"Oh, right," Jack said, his brows furrowing. Then his face lit up with an idea. "Stay here," he said, springing up. He took off at a run towards the house.

I let him leave without protest. "1778," U chuckled to myself. "I must be dead," I mused. "Or in some twisted coma, at least…"

***

A few minutes later, Jack came thundering back into view. "Here," he panted, shoving a ball of wadded up fabric at me.

"What's this?" I asked, taking it from him.

"Some of my clothes," he said proudly. "You see, it'll look better if I bring a boy to supper." I raised my eyebrows at him. "Well, you know," he said, "it's a bit more, uh, proper."

"Oh," I said, nodding.

"Uh, why don't you go over there 'an change," Jack suggested, pointing into a clump of apple trees. "I won't look or anythin', I swear."

I got up and walked as far away from Jack as I could into the little grove. I looked down at what he had given me: a dull blue cotton shirt and a pair of cotton pants.

"Jack?" I called to him.

"What?" he called back.

"What am I going to do about shoes?" I asked.

"Go barefoot, ahcourse!" he shouted back.

I shook my head at how his brain worked, then changed as quickly as possible. I hunt my slacks and blouse on one of the tree branches, and ticked my flats into a nook in another. Then, remembering my hair, I reached into the pocket of my slacks and pulled out one of the hair ties that I always keep with me. I pulled my red hair back into a low ponytail, hoping it would pass inspection.

When I came back out of the grove, Jack looked me over. "The clothes are a little big, but they'll have to do," he said.

"Is there anything I need to know before we reach your house?" I asked as we started out walk.

"Nah," Jack said. "But my father's name is John, my mother's name is Katherine, and my sisters are Caroline, Sarah, and Kate."

"What's my name, then?" I asked suddenly.

"Andrea," Jack said, giving me an uncertain look.

"No, my _boy_ name," I said.

"Oh," Jack said, his brow furrowing. "We'll call you Andrew," he said after a few seconds.

"All right," I said. Jack stopped walking suddenly. "What?" I said, alarmed by the rapidity of his stop.

"Let me hear your man voice," Jack said.

"_Man voice_?"

"Yeah, we can't have you talkin' like a girl when you're supposta' be a guy."

I cleared my throat, then lowered my voice an octave or two. "How's this?"

Jack nodded, clearly satisfied. "That'll do fine," he said.

We walked the remainder of the way in silence.

***

All too soon, the plantation came into view. It was a beautiful, large, white house, with two brown barns on one side of it, and acres upon acres of fields on the other. Behind it, I could just make out what appeared to be a small pond, and we had just come from the orchard.

I followed Jack up the front steps. "Well, here we go," he said. And then he pushed the front door open. 


	5. The Goldsmiths

**Author's Notes: Woohoo, update! Sorry about the wait for this chapter, but I didn't really have much time to work on it.**

**Chapter 5:**

"Ma! Pa!" Jack called as we entered the front room.

"John Goldsmith Junior!" came a shrill voice from the other room. "Where in Heaven's name 'av you been?"

"Ma –" Jack started, but she cut him off.

"It is well past six o'clock!" Jack's mother scolded. "I sent you off to the orchard at four!" Then she rounded the corner, I did a double take. I was not entirely sure that the tiny woman in front of me was actually capable of making as much noise was she was. "That was two hours ago!" she continued.

"Ma! Ma!" Jack shouted over his mother. "I've been tryin' to tell ya that we have a guest tonight."

The woman rounded on me, a look of genuine surprise on her face. As far as I could tell, she had not noticed me until now.

"Ma, this here is Andrew Watson," Jack said.

"It's a pleasure, ma'am," I said, adopting my man-voice, and bowing my head.

"Name's Katherine," he said. "'An if you're a friend of Jack's, then don't you go wasting your breath with all this 'Mrs. Goldsmith' nonsense." I nodded. "Well, come on, then," Katherine said. "Food's on the table."

Jack and I exchanged a glance, then followed her into the spacious dining room. When we got in there, I saw a large man with a bushy brown beard seated at the head of the table.

"Pa," Jack said, "this here's my friend Andrew Watson."

The man stood up and extended his hand to me. "Sir," I said, shaking his hand. Silently, I prayed that he wouldn't notice how feminine my hand was.

"Call me John," he said with a smile.

We took our seats at the table, with John at the head, Jack next to him, and myself next to Jack. Within thirty seconds, Jack's three sisters appeared at the table as well.

"Girls, this is my friend Andrew," Jack said.

I nodded my head in greeting, while all three of them said, "Nice to meet ya."

Katherine had made a baked chicken for dinner, along with some cooked vegetables from their garden. I ate several helping of everything. I hadn't realized how hungry I was until now.

"So, Andrew, where are you from?" Katherine asked about half way through diner.

"Uh…" I said uncertainly. I wasn't as prepared for this as I had thought. "I don't know, exactly."

Katherine and her husband exchanged a glance. "You don't know?" she said.

"Well, not really," I said. I knew that I had to do some on-the-spot wild inventing now. "Uh, you see, my parents died when I was very young, so I've just been wandering from town to town, staying in inns or with people kind enough to give me the boarding space.

"I'm sorry about your parents," John said solemnly. "Are you staying in town tonight?"

"Oh, don't talk nonsense, John," Katherine said sharply. "He's staying with us."

"Oh, no, I couldn't possibly –" I started, but Jack cut me off.

"Hush up, Andrew," he said. "Once her mind's made up, there ain't no use in aurgen."

"I'll just pull in that extra mat inta' Jack's room," Katherine said. "That is, if ya don't mind sleepin' on a mat."

"Really, you don't have to –"

"'Course I do!" Katherine said. "You're Jack's friend, ain't ya?" The words died in my throat at that. "'An besides, I'd wager that you'd so the same thing 'fer him if he was outta' a home."

"I would," I said. Even though I had known Jack for only a few hours, I knew that those two words were the truth when I spoke them.

***

"You Northerners are so argumentative," Jack said a few hours later as we prepared for bed. He had lent me some more of his clothes to sleep in.

"How'd you know I was from up north?" I asked.

"You ain't got no accent!" Jack laughed, looking at me like I had three heads.

"Oh," I said, my brows furrowing at why that simple thing had not occurred to me. I flopped down on my mat and rolled over so that I was on my back, looking up at the ceiling.

"You know," Jack said a while later when he had recovered from his laughing fit, "I ain't never had a friend before."

I couldn't help but smile to myself in the darkness, tears welling in the corners of my eyes. "Goodnight, Jack."

"Goodnight, Andrea."


End file.
